


Better

by MrsHamill



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Humor, M/M, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 19:45:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6022515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You act like a twelve-year-old, you get treated like one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better

**Author's Note:**

> This is borderline crack!fic. It has no possible bearing on canon _at all_. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. It was inspired by hearing about the many, many practical jokes which apparently are committed on the SG:A set by the usual suspects. (I firmly believe that the better the practical jokes, the tighter the ensemble is.) Thank you to Susan and Christi (She the Magic Plot Hole Finder) for their help and mucho (and belated) thanks to 30toseoul, Linaerys, Lapislaz and Mac for their incredibly twisted ideas for practical jokes. Dedicated to Nansi and Annie, hoping to make them smile.

Sometimes, Elizabeth Weir felt more like the director of a daycare center than the head of an extremely powerful civilian-military outpost. Daycare center? Actually, more like an elementary school teacher with an over-abundance of twelve-year-old boys, all about to leap into the hormone hell of puberty. And that went for the women as well, though Kate Heightmeyer and Teyla usually managed to stay above all the juvenile behavior leading to wince-caliber practical jokes on Atlantis.

Elizabeth wasn't saying that practical jokes were bad, per se. In fact, she'd taken part in some of them. (If she lived to be as old as her alternate, she would never forget the sound of John Sheppard shrieking like a girl as a rubber iratus bug dropped onto his cafeteria tray. That had been truly sweet.) Back when it was just them, back before Earth came back into their lives and to their rescue, practical jokes (and just jokes) were a relief valve, were a way of reassuring them that they were still alive, still not dead. They weren't malicious (well, mostly not) and though usually elaborate, weren't indulged in that frequently. Survival usually took precedence. 

After the _Daedalus_ began making regular runs; after personnel had been transferred, rotated, given leave and replaced; after life settled down again, the practical jokes had started back up. Once the new personnel had figured out the hierarchy, they joined in with enthusiasm. Elizabeth knew it was the sign of a happy, healthy, intelligent population -- but there were limits. Limits that two of her people had just about crossed.

They fact that they were the heads of their respective sections -- and her seconds in command -- just made it worse.

She had John Sheppard and Rodney McKay sitting across from her desk, their identical expressions undoubtedly meant to be reflecting their contrition. Elizabeth wasn't fooled for a moment. John Sheppard and Rodney McKay might have been grown men in their thirties, but inside... oh, yeah. They were twelve. Definitely.

She laced her fingers together and leaned her forearms on her desk, schooling her expression to one of severity. "Gentlemen, we seem to have a problem." She watched as they glanced at each other uneasily. "I'll be the first to admit that jokes have a place in a work environment, and the more stressful the environment the more needed the jokes are. However, we seem to have hit a new low and we need to address it and stop it, now."

"Elizabeth--" Rodney said, but Elizabeth raised her finger to stop him.

"No, Rodney. Let me talk. The vapor lock on the doors to the quarters was fun, I'll acknowledge that. And the stacked up tower of half-empty soda cans was inspired. I didn't say anything when Kavanagh was ballooned into his quarters, even though I'm reliably informed we'll be pulling bits of latex out of the air filtration system for the next year." And it _had_ been hilarious, but she wasn't going to admit that. She was their boss and this was not a negotiable subject. "However. The blue dye thing went too far."

"We really didn't know Simpson would be allergic to it," John said earnestly. 

She gave him a level-two glare. "That is entirely beside the point," she said, keeping her voice level and even. "Practical jokes should be funny and not humiliating... not overly-humiliating, at least. And non-toxic, as well. Which brings me to the septic system explosion."

"Uh, that was... was my fault," Rodney said with a wince. "I, uh, underestimated the amount of methane needed to--"

"Rodney, that is beside the point," Elizabeth said again, slowly and distinctly. "Piping helium into the gate control room is funny until we need to negotiate with touchy heads of state. At that point, it moves from 'funny' to 'stupid and maybe dangerous.' You get my drift?" 

Both men swallowed noisily and glanced at each other. "Um... yeah," Rodney said just as John said, "Yeah, but..."

"No buts. You took it too far and now is the time to back it off." She increased her expression to a  level-three glare and watched in satisfaction as they shrank back into their chairs and gulped. "I will expect you to convey this data to your respective sections. For the time being, Atlantis is a prank-free environment. And you two are on probation; one more problem with this and you're getting a time out."

That had been Kate's idea, actually, one of the less wild ones (while Elizabeth had been enchanted with the idea of making both Rodney and John her personal body servants, she had to admit it probably wouldn't fly with her superiors). Kate was absolutely certain that Rodney and John were only 'acting out' because of an attraction between them, one they didn't know how to handle. Elizabeth wasn't so sure as Kate, but she was willing to try pretty much anything at this point.

"A _what_?" That was nearly simultaneous in voice and tone.

"You act like twelve-year-olds, you're going to get treated like twelve-year-olds." She ratcheted up the glare to level four. "Have I made myself clear?" 

One last look between them and twin sighs; Elizabeth didn't waver. 

"Okay, fine," John finally said. He had the intelligence to aim his scowl at the floor, so Elizabeth couldn't call him on it.

"Rodney?"

"Yes, yes, fine. All right. Mother." The last word was tacked on with a healthy dose of sarcasm, but Elizabeth let it go. 

"Good. Now, I'd like--"

The radio interrupted her. "Dr. Weir? Sorry to interrupt, ma'am. You asked me to let you know: the _Daedalus_ has landed and Colonel Caldwell is on his way up."

"Thank you, Sergeant," she replied into the radio. "Good, he made good time. I'd like--"

She was interrupted again, this time by a panicky Sheppard and McKay. "Caldwell's here already?" Rodney's voice almost squeaked.

"We need to go now!" John said, jumping to his feet.

"What?" Elizabeth rose as Rodney did. "Hold on--"

"Do you think he's made it to the transporter--"

"How long does it take to reverse--"

"I wasn't expecting him yet!"

"FREEZE!" Elizabeth rarely had to use The Bellow, but when she did, it was usually to good effect. Both John and Rodney froze in their tracks, turning to her with wide eyes. "What did you do?!" she demanded, coming around her desk. " _What did you DO?_ "

The alarm klaxon went off and all three of them winced.

* * *

The door snicking shut behind them sounded like the toll of doom. 

"This is all your fault!" Rodney said, stalking into the room.

"How is it my fault?" John demanded, following him. Hey, cool, they had an entire kitchen and a pretty big living room. "You're the one who set the teleporter controls!" No windows, though, dammit. But then again, he suspected they were underwater here.

"It was _your_ idea!" There was also a couch and Rodney threw himself on it. "Though you know, for an old guy, Caldwell looks pretty good. He must exercise a lot."

"He's not old, he's not that much older than me." John did a double take. "Wait a minute, you think Caldwell is _hot_?"

Rodney frowned. "Well... not like _that_ , but, you know, yeah. Sorta. You know, for an old guy. He looked okay, and a lot of people look like hell without their clothes, but he..."

"I hate you." John opened what had to be the refrigerator and peered inside. No beer and tragically no citrus, but a lot of other things.

"Yeah, well, I hate you more." John wouldn't have thought it possible, but Rodney sagged further into the cushions of the couch as he spoke. "I can't believe I'm stuck in here with you for a week."

"Oh, and I'm turning handsprings." John slammed the door to the fridge and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't suppose you could find a way out of here...?"

"If I could pretend that Elizabeth wasn't monitoring everything that goes in and comes out of this place, or if I could pretend there are actually any dataports in here, yeah, maybe I could. Or maybe I could if I knew Caldwell was gone or at least no longer homicidal." 

Rodney was pouting. He was actually pouting. Maybe Elizabeth was right, and they were twelve. Well, Rodney was, anyway. "This is a nightmare." John kept exploring the cabinets of the kitchen, which were remarkably well-stocked but there were no tools, not even a damn file.

"At least she gave us laptops," Rodney said, his voice gloomy.

"Un-networked laptops. What if the Wraith attack? What if--"

"I think that was the point of her putting us here, now, because Caldwell was going to be in town for the week we're 'gone.'"

John grimaced. Caldwell had looked like he could have quite easily killed both of them, even without clothes or weapons. And the way Elizabeth had looked at him... "You really think Caldwell is hot?"

Rodney sighed and let his head thump to the back of the couch. "Maybe I could slit my wrists."

* * *

There was only one bed. True, it was a huge one, big enough for four (or eight if they were well-acquainted) but still, it was the principal of the thing.

"I can't decide if I'm impressed or pissed off that she managed to get all our things here on such short notice," John said, looking around. Pretty much everything, right down to his dog-eared copy of _War and Peace_ was there... well, not his outdoor gear. That would have been a little too harsh -- though after seeing Elizabeth's face when she'd returned to her office, he wouldn't have put 'harsh' past her. 

Elizabeth had kept them in her office, under guard, for a half an hour after Caldwell had been... re-clothed. John had the funny feeling that she did it as much for their safety as punishment. It didn't help matters that marines and science staff were nearly crying from laughter and kept coming in to Elizabeth's office and slapping both John and Rodney on the back in congratulations. Less than an hour after the incident, she was having them escorted (frog-marched) down to one of the sub-levels in the command tower. There was a table and comfortable chair set up in the corridor leading to their prison, which was where their weapons and radios went. Then they were locked into the suite and told to think long and well on penance. They would be checked on twice a day, but would not be allowed out for a week.

"I'm surprised she didn't come up with horrible work for me to do, like Sisyphus rolling that rock uphill. It's bad enough that I've got to leave my city to a bunch of bumbling incompetents without proper supervision. I'll be surprised if the city doesn't blow up during our week here. Serve them right." Rodney was still gloomy and pouting, and it had already gotten on John's nerves. The bad part was it was only the first day of their 'time out'... he had a feeling they might not need rescue as much as they might need blood transfusions.

"So, flip you for the bed?" Rodney asked.

"Hell no. I outrank you."

"I've got a bad back!"

"You're a hypochondriac!"

"I am not! Okay, I am, but that doesn't mean I don't have a bad back! And I am not sleeping on the damn couch for a week!"

"Fine! Then sleep on the bed, but I'm not sleeping on the couch either, so you'll just have to figure out how to share. Or haven't you gotten that far in your development?"

"Oh bite me! Who is the juvenile one here? Not me, I can assure you."

"Yeah, right!" John gave Rodney as withering a glance as he could, then turned and walked into the bathroom.

"You can't run away, Colonel!" Rodney yelled but John ignored him. He wasn't running away, he was going to find some sharp implements to use on either himself or McKay. Or maybe both.

* * *

The freezer held several days' worth of frozen meals, ready to be inserted into the heater thingy. It wasn't a microwave since it did get hot and would heat up things that had foil on top of them, but it must work along the same principle since it was quick. The meals were clearly marked and none of them had any citrus and were, overall, incredibly bland.

"Nothing but salt and pepper?" John grimaced down at his dinner which looked supremely unappetizing. 

"It's good," Rodney mumbled around his mouthful of food. He was shoveling it down like he was starving.

John gave Rodney a glare. "Yeah, I figured you'd like it." He stirred the stuff that he thought was supposed to be 'gravy.' "This is gross. I'm going to request some Tabasco sauce."

"Eww." 

"Especially if I'm going to have eggs for breakfast, and I think I saw powdered eggs..." He put his fork down on the counter where he was eating and rummaged in the cabinet next to the fridge. "Yes! Powdered is better than nothing."

"There's cereal."

"There's _oatmeal_ ," John corrected Rodney. "And oatmeal should be outlawed in this galaxy."

"And you think I eat badly." Rodney rolled his eyes and polished off his mystery meat and mystery gravy, swallowing with relish. It just made John feel more nauseous.

Pushing away from the counter, John opened the trash compactor and dumped his tray inside, putting his utensils in the cleaner. Rodney came around the corner and did the same, then rummaged in the fridge. "At least there's blue Jell-O," he said, holding it up like a hunting trophy.

"Yeah, knock yourself out, McKay." John wandered into the living area and dropped onto the couch. "Just how long has Elizabeth been planning this, anyway?" he said, looking around. "I mean, all the comforts of home? This place had to have been stocked and ready."

"Hmm." Rodney was sucking down blue Jell-O like there was no tomorrow. "Maybe it's her secret love nest."

"For who? Caldwell, who you think is so hot?"

Rodney gave him a withering look. "Will you just move on already? Maybe it's for her and Teyla."

That made John sit up straight. "Elizabeth and _Teyla_?"

Tossing the now-empty Jell-O cup into the trash, Rodney shrugged. "Why not? You don't think they're doing each other? Maybe Elizabeth and Kate."

"You are insane," John said automatically. Then he thought about it. "Although..."

"Yeah," Rodney said. He leaned on the counter and smiled dreamily. "Maybe I could arrange to have this place bugged with cameras. We could watch."

John could almost get behind that notion until he realized, "You don't think she's already got it bugged, do you?"

Instead of answering, Rodney's eyes grew big as saucers then he almost ran into the bedroom. When John followed him, he was running his fingers up and down every edge in the room, standing on a chair to reach the ceiling. John watched him from the doorway. "Why here? Don't you think the bathroom would better serve if she wanted to watch us?"

"That's next on my agenda," Rodney said grimly. 

Once he had run his fingers over every nook and cranny in both the bedroom and the bathroom, Rodney pulled out his tablet and checked it over. "She's crippled me for a lot of stuff but... yes!" He began tapping madly.

"What?" John finally demanded.

Rodney looked up, seeming almost surprised that John was still in the room with him. "I've got an app that checks for any foreign power source or drain in a six foot radius. I'll run it and check but that should do it."

"So, nothing there?" John prodded.

"Nothing to touch, no," Rodney said, already focusing on his tablet. "Hang on a bit."

'A bit' in McKay-speak could be anywhere from five minutes to a week. It had taken John about a month of living with McKay underfoot for him to figure that out. It was predicated on the pitch of the voice as he spoke the words -- high and rushed meant six nanoseconds or less. Slow and thoughtful could be two or three days... however long Beckett was able to feed uppers to him. 

This one was thoughtful so John sighed and grabbed his own laptop, firing it up. He had a couple of RPGs that he'd been wanting to play for a while, this seemed like the best time to begin them. Of course, the best RPGs were online ones, but beggars couldn't be choosers -- he was just glad Elizabeth had given them their own laptops to play with while they had their 'time out.'

He was deeply into Myst III: Exile when Rodney finally looked up. "No evidence of any cameras," he said. John just waved without looking up. "Though really, I wouldn't have expected it of her. That's a little over the top."

"Three words," John said, still not looking up. "Rubber iratus bug."

"Oh, yeah." Rodney sounded wistful and admiring. "That was a good one." He plopped down on the sofa next to John. "What's that?"

"Myst III. Go away."

Rodney snorted in derision. "You're just _now_ getting to that? I beat that four -- or was it five? -- years ago! Took me all of a half hour." 

"I don't care, McKay. Go away."

"Hard to do when I'm trapped in here with you." 

John scooted over to one end of the couch but Rodney followed him, craning his neck when John twisted the laptop out of the way. "Do you mind?" he finally said, exasperated.

"If you go that way, you're never going to find the--"

With an exasperated growl, John saved the game and exited. "That's it, I'm going to bed."

"What? What?! I was just trying to help..."

John flipped Rodney off as he disappeared into the bedroom. "And don't you dare play it under my name!" he tossed back over his shoulder. Stupid scientists.

* * *

John woke at his usual oh-six-hundred and felt a momentary disorientation until he remembered the events of the previous day. There was a horrible noise coming from his left and it took a few seconds  to realize it was McKay, snoring, on his side of the bed. How John had managed to sleep through _that_ racket, he had no clue.

He rose and did his duty in the bathroom but did not try to move quietly -- as if anything could overpower the snoring. But he closed the bedroom door behind him before he turned on the lights to the main living area. No sense in completely alienating McKay, though the guy really ought to keep better hours. John had just started coffee brewing when there was a soft knock on the door.

It was Lorne, who looked like he was still having a hard time keeping from laughing. "Good morning, sir."

John gave him the Raised Eyebrow of Doom. "Major."

"Uh..." Lorne looked down for a moment. When he looked up again, his face was slightly more serious. "Everything okay? No need for any medical treatment? Housekeeping to wipe up any messes?"

"Very funny." John crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I assure you, Major, that I won't make a mess when I kill McKay."

"Okay, that's... good. Okay." If the laughter John could absolutely _feel_ bubbling up in Lorne broke through, John was going to teach the guy a new lesson in pain. "Any requests for stuff? Anything we've missed?"

"Tabasco sauce. Some real food. And any citrus you can find. Oh, and a way out of here."

"Uh... okay on the first two, but I'm sorry, I'm under orders on the last--"

"Fine, whatever. If anybody's got any movies or trashy novels to spare, that'd work too. Just not chick lit."

"You got it, sir." Lorne was going to hurt something if he kept trying to hold it in.

"Tabasco sauce before breakfast, please. Dismissed." As the door closed in John's face, he swore he heard Lorne laughing out loud.

He couldn't go running but he could do some calisthenics, which would help get rid of some of the boredom he knew he'd be facing. Ironic -- he'd longed for some time off just the other day, but now that he had it... Then again, his idea of time off was something more along the lines of a tropical beachfront paradise with perfect waves and someone hot, sultry and scantily-clad bringing him booze with little a paper umbrella in it.

Instead, he was stuck at the bottom of Atlantis with a snoring astrophysicist. God. Could it get any worse?

Lorne came back with the sauce after John finished seventy or so pushups. He endeared himself to John and wrote off some of the payback by offering to bring some free weights, something John gratefully accepted. John put the sauce in the fridge and started on some ab crunches. The free weights would help kill the time, he supposed. And knowing Elizabeth, she'd make sure he had more than his share of the normal paperwork load.

John found out Rodney was awake by hearing his grating voice. "What the hell are you doing?"

Finishing the last set of ten, John flopped back to the carpet. "It's something new, McKay, called exercising. You should try it sometime."

"Please." Rodney skittered into the kitchen and poured himself some coffee. "I get enough exercise using my brain."

"Yeah, right." John stood and stretched, pulling muscles out gently, getting his pulse back to normal. "Lorne came by and wanted to know if there was anything we needed. I got some Tabasco sauce, at least."

"Is he coming back? Because I need--"

"He'll be back in an hour or so with some other stuff. You can ask him then," John interrupted. He shouldered Rodney aside and poured himself some coffee. "You snore."

"Well forgive me, mister eloquence. I'm not used to sleeping with anyone but myself over the past few years."

John frowned at him. "Well, that's interesting but more information than I needed, McKay." Though it did make sense in a strange, McKay-universe sort of way. John didn't think he'd been seeing anyone, anyway, but to have confirmation made it just... He wanted to think 'lonelier' but didn't think that was the right word.

Rodney grunted at him and started rummaging in the fridge.

Day two was boring as hell punctuated by moments of sheer mindlessness. Rodney talked _incessantly_ , to his laptop, to John, to himself or just to the air if John wasn't listening. It drove John up a wall until he found the earphones for his iPod also worked in his laptop. After that, he could tune the Rodney Rambles out and play his game in relative peace. 

A couple of hours after breakfast, Lorne came back with Ronon and the free weights. Ronon had apparently caught the hilarity of the situation from Lorne, but he was less successful than the Major was in hiding his mirth. He also made numerous jokes about the situation at both John's and Rodney's expense. Rodney answered him back, quip for lame quip, until John begged Lorne for his gun. Failing that, he begged for beer. Lots of beer. Lorne said he'd see what he could do.

By the middle of the afternoon, Myst had lost its appeal, despite Brad Dourif's histrionics. He saved what he'd done and stood. "Did you get to the rollercoaster island yet?" Rodney asked the minute he saw the earbuds come out of John's ears.

"McKay..."

"I'm just saying. Though I figured you for a _World of Warcraft_ person, actually."

"Oh, like I don't get enough of the real thing around here to keep me amused?" He went to the fridge to look for something to drink, desperately wanting a beer, even as early as it was. "Besides, I like mind puzzles better than shoot-em-ups." There was absolutely nothing but juice and water to drink. Not even a Coke.

"Oh." John finally pulled a pitcher of berry juice out and poured himself a glass. "Then... did you like Syberia?"

John closed the fridge and turned around, looking at Rodney over the breakfast bar-counter. "I've heard of that, but not played it. Is it good?"

"Yeah, it was okay... iffy science, but still. I've, uh... I've got Syberia Two on my laptop, if you want to play it."

"Do I have to know the first game?"

"Nah, there's a movie at the beginning which explains it all."

"Okay, cool. Thanks."

"It only took me a couple of hours to break it, but you might have more trouble." Rodney was smirking again and John gave him his second-best glare.

"Do you do everything better, McKay?"

Rodney screwed up his face and looked at the ceiling for a few seconds. "Short answer? Why, yes."

John rolled his eyes but traded laptops. "Nobody is perfect at everything, Rodney. I don't think it's possible."

"Then you are sadly limited in your thinking, Colonel. And if you'll go back over your question, you'll realize that you didn't say perfect."

John sighed. When playing word games with McKay seemed like fun... he really, really needed that beer. "McKay, you are not better at everything."

"Name one thing."

"Shooting."

Rodney waved his hand. "I'm better than anyone else on the science staff. Granted, I'm not perfect at it, but then I have other things to occupy my time."

"God! You're insufferable!"

"I do that better than anyone else too."

"Clearly!" The graphics had started and John was impressed, they were pretty damn good. "So does your practice makes perfect brain have any idea why you're in such lousy condition?"

"I am not!" 

"McKay, you've got a spare tire." John gave him a look -- Rodney was wearing parti-colored boxers and a ragged, green t-shirt that said 'I'm With Genius' and had an arrow pointing up. John wasn't dressed much better. Why get completely dressed if it was just the two of them? "Okay, it's gone down a bit in the last couple of years, but still--"

"Please. Being better than anyone at exercise? I suppose if one wished to spend one's life being a body-builder at the cost of one's brain--"

"Exercise has its own rewards, McKay. Like living longer."

"Possibly, but would the amount of time one spends exercising actually offset the longevity? In other words, would you--"

"Live as long as you spent time exercising, yeah, I get it, and you're so full of it you float." John could almost hear Rodney roll his eyes. "Cooking." John glanced up and saw Rodney frowning at him. "You're not the best at cooking."

"I never said I was the best, I said I was better. There are people who are the best at what they do, like exercising," Rodney's expression made John want to smack him, "and there are people who are the best at their chosen profession, such as cooking. Though I am a very good cook, if I do say so myself."

"You would."

"Shut up. I'm also the best physicist in two galaxies."

"In one. I hear Samantha Carter is smarter than you."

"Lies. Perhaps equal, but that's really pushing it."

"You're certainly not the best at practical jokes, though under my tutelage, you're coming along nicely."

Rodney glared at him and John smiled sweetly. Then the movie started and John got lost in Syberia.

* * *

After playing Syberia for a few hours, John reluctantly pulled his attention back into his prison, rose and stretched, looking around for something -- anything -- to do. The weights weren't much but they were better than nothing, so he walked over and checked out the rack. He was hefting some of the twenty pounders when there was a knock at the door.

It was Cadman. "Sir. Just the afternoon check in." She was far better than Lorne at a straight face but he knew her too well -- her eyes were absolutely dancing.

"I haven't killed him yet, Lieutenant." Not yet, anyway. "My beer?"

"Oh, yes. I'm afraid I could only get you a six-pack, but here you go."

"Oh, my God, is it the good stuff or that swill you Americans drink?" Rodney came out of the bathroom and almost ran to the door.

"Calm down, Rodney, it's Molson. Best I could do."

Rodney tried to grab the beer but John body-checked him. "Mine, McKay. If you're good, I might share."

"Hey!"

"Oh, and Dr. Weir asked me to give you this," Cadman said, ignoring Rodney much as John was. She handed John a disk and he rolled his eyes. 

"Let me guess, paperwork."

"Wouldn't know, sir," Cadman replied crisply, still completely straight-faced. "Dr. McKay, there's one for you too." She handed Rodney's disk over.

"If he won't share, you need to bring another six-pack," Rodney demanded as he took the disk. "You owe me, Cadman."

She rolled her eyes. "I'll see what I can do. The betting has been pretty heavy but I'm sure someone will want to toss in another six-pack."

"Betting?" John gave her a horrified look. "Do I even want to know?"

"Actually, sir?" Cadman swallowed and her lips were twitching. "You don't."

John pulled one of the bottles off the plastic carrier and opened it with his teeth. He had a feeling he was going to need all the help he could get.

And it was only day two of their time-out. John gave thought to asking for some harder liquor and maybe spending the time in a drunken stupor. But Elizabeth would probably deny the request. She was an evil, evil woman and someday he'd get back at her for this indignity. Payback was a bigger bitch than even Elizabeth Weir.

* * *

Dinner was marginally better when drowned in Tabasco sauce. John was grateful that Rodney hated the stuff and only gave him horrified looks every time he used it. It was the beer which made the night, however. With beer-flavored glasses, he was actually able to enjoy the evening as Rodney inhaled another tasteless meal.

"You're going to burn your taste buds off with that stuff," Rodney said. And, "I don't see what's so bad about consistency in taste." And, "There're always MREs, you know." The only bad part was he had to share the beer with Rodney, though he was able to keep it even -- three beers each.

After three beers, John was pleasantly buzzed but Rodney, the lightweight, was quite happy and let John know about it. "I'm amazed," was all John said in reply, rolling his eyes. 

Rodney didn't let that stop him. "It's been so damn long since I had time to relax with a beer. So this whole thing is good from that standpoint. Even if I'm going to be months behind on my research and have to pick up after all my brain-dead underlings once 'mother' lets us out. At least Radek is having to deal with it, and I can't tell you how happy I am about that." There was an evil smile on Rodney's face and John rolled his eyes. "Nothing beats having to step into the boss's shoes to make you appreciate the boss more."

"I'll bet," John said, draining his last bottle with regret. "Okay, so what movies do you have, McKay? Because gaming is getting boring and there's not much else to do except the paperwork Elizabeth wants me to do."

"Oh. Movies?" Rodney frowned and looked at his laptop, which was on the small table in front of the couch. He had the last bottle of beer in his hand as he slouched on the sofa. "Hm. There's Monty Python."

John grimaced. "Too much of a good thing."

"Well, okay. I've got a bootleg of _Brokeback Mountain_?"

John's jaw dropped to the floor. "You _must_ be joking."

"Why? It's an okay movie."

Narrowing his eyes, John said, "Is there something you want to tell me, Dr. 'Caldwell is kinda hot' McKay?"

"Would you just get over that already? And please, don't you sit there and tell me you're one hundred percent straight."

" _My_ sexuality is not the one in question here!"

"And mine is? I've never been anything but bi, never represented myself as anything but."

"I... You... You have not!"

"Yes I have!" Rodney was vehement for a moment then paused. "I did, didn't I?"

"No, you haven't! Jesus Rodney."

"What? Why are you upset with me?"

"Because you didn't tell me!"

"What, you couldn't guess with all the flirting we've been doing these past two years? Christ, Sheppard, with all the ascended chicks you run around with, I thought you were an easy lay." He paused again and gave John an earnest look. "You are, aren't you? I mean, at least to females."

"No, I'm not, and not just to females." John was fuming; he just never caught on to this stuff, he never had and never would. He and Rodney had been flirting? Well, Rodney had and assumed John was? "I've gotten laid a grand total of twice since moving out to Pegasus, so I don't know where you get off saying I'm easy." Well, he _might_ be easy, if he could ever figure out when someone was interested in him, but he wasn't going to say that aloud.

"Oh." Rodney blinked at him for a moment then drained the rest of his beer. "And here I thought you were just enjoying the unresolved sexual tension between us."

There was sexual tension between them? "No. I wasn't."

"Huh." Rodney gave him McKay Look Number Fourteen, the 'You Are a Bug Under My Microscope' look that John hated more than anything except McKay Look Number Three: 'You are a Moronic Idiot and How Did You Manage To Become An Adult?' "So, if you weren't flirting, what were you doing?"

John glared at him. "Oh, I don't know, _talking_? _Living_?"

"Oh. So, you're not interested in me at all, then?"

"Maybe barbequed." No, that wasn't right and really wasn't even nice. He was the nice one; it was _Rodney_ who was the rude and obnoxious one. "You're my friend, Rodney," he said, with a put-upon sigh. "Most of the time. And the closest I have to... to... you know..."

Rodney wasn't making it any easier for John to speak, just sitting and staring at him. Usually Rodney was right there, filling in all the blanks whenever John had to discuss something tricky and nasty, like feelings. But this time, Rodney just looked at him, blinking owlishly. 

John finally gave up in disgust. "Oh, never mind."

"No, go on, please," Rodney said, flapping his hands at John. "I'm really interested in where this is going."

"Well, I'm not!" 

"I don't see why not, after all, sex is a primary motivator in most mammals, especially humans, and, you know, we _are_ guys. Guys think about sex all the time. Well, when we're not thinking about other things, like food and surviving the latest Wraith attack." 

"Well, yeah, you think about it, but as you just said, there isn't a lot of time for it out here."

"As I just said?"

John rolled his eyes. "Yes, you said yesterday, you weren't used to sleeping with someone else in bed with you."

"Oh, that!" Rodney still looked confused. "I didn't mean about sex, though, just I haven't been sleeping with anyone. I get lots of sex. I just don't know why you haven't been."

"You get lots of sex."

"That _is_ what I said," Rodney replied, his own eyes rolling.

"Where? How? We're in a goddamn fishbowl here, McKay, which is a big part of the reason why I haven't had any--"

"Oh for God's sake." And there it was, McKay Look Number Three. "'Where' is pretty much anywhere except the control room -- not for lack of trying, though -- and 'how' is by asking if people are interested and just doing it." The look went away but it was replaced by a smirk; not much better in John's book. "And while we're on the subject of doing things better--"

"We are not!"

"--I also give better head than anyone in the science division, male or female."

"Cadman told me about you and Brown--"

"Yeah, and? That wasn't sex, that was _dating_. There's a huge difference. Or didn't you know that either?"

John had a headache and feared it wasn't going away anytime soon. Suddenly, a lot of Rodney's bizarre characteristics and weird personality quirks began to make sense. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Maybe that's your problem, though," Rodney continued. "You're confusing sex with dating. And you're right, dating on Atlantis is a royal pain in the ass. But sex is easy to get." He frowned. "Well, most of the time." He waved his hand. "Whatever. I'm just having difficulty revising my opinion of you from major stud to major dud."

"That's Colonel Dud to you, and I am not." John crossed his arms over his chest. "I just never... I mean, I don't... you know, ever see..."

"You don't ever see it coming?" Rodney said, narrowing his eyes. "I think that's what you said to me after that mission to the other Atlantis city, with the hot blonde. Didn't she throw herself at you like a suicidal deer at a car?"

"Yes, she did throw herself at me, and no, I never see it... you know..."

"Coming," Rodney supplied helpfully. "Which you apparently haven't done a lot of, at least lately."

John gave up. Uncrossing his arms, he buried his face in his hands. "I don't know how I ever get involved in these conversations," he muttered to himself.

"Because I'm that much smarter and less fucked-up than you?" Rodney said helpfully.

"I am going to kill you," John said, glaring at Rodney between his fingers.

"No, you won't, because if you kill me, you'll never find out if I give the best blowjobs in the Pegasus galaxy. And you never answered my question, not properly, anyway... are you attracted to me? Not in a barbequed fashion either."

"You give the best blowjobs..."

"In Pegasus, well, in Atlantis. I don't know if oral sex is widespread in this galaxy -- though empirical evidence shows it is -- so I might not give the best in the galaxy--"

"I can't understand how you can possibly give blowjobs since you never shut up!"

"Oh, I can shut up, I can shut up very well. Allow me to demonstrate." With that, Rodney slipped off the couch and knelt between John's knees. They were still wearing the uniform of the day -- boxers and scruffy t-shirts -- so it was easy for Rodney to get access to John, who was surprised to find himself half-hard. Before John could even take a breath to speak, Rodney had pulled down John's boxers far enough that his dick came out, then leaned in and licked a stripe up it.

"Shit--!" John said, his hips automatically lifting.

Rodney chuckled and it was a new sound, a sound John had never heard come out of Rodney before. He couldn't tell if he liked it or not, but regardless, it seemed his dick liked it just fine. In one move, Rodney leaned forward again and swallowed John down. He had to put one hand on John's hips, then, because John couldn't keep from bucking up into that moist heat.

John hadn't gotten hard so fast since he was seventeen. It felt like every drop of blood in his body went south, concentrated on filling Rodney's mouth. And Rodney had no problem keeping up, either, as John's erection grew. He was running his tongue along the bottom of it, flicking the head and sucking gently, encouraging it to grow and oh God, that was good. Rodney knew how to drive a guy crazy, John knew that, but now he also knew that Rodney could drive a man crazy in a _whole, new, very exciting_ way.

He could do nothing but hold on for the ride as Rodney fellated him with astounding skill. He found every one of John's buttons and punched them, punched them _hard_. "Holy crap," John murmured, his breath stuttering as he watched Rodney take him deep. Rodney merely hummed in pleasure and swallowed, and John saw stars. Or he saw something, but maybe it was because he was barely breathing, watching Rodney bob up and down on his dick and make really, really obscene and hot slurping noises while he did.

"I... I..." John wanted to warn Rodney, tell him he was close (really close, really, really close in an oh my God kind of way, in a going to melt and shoot my brain out my cock kind of way), but he could barely remember his name, much less how to form words. Rodney just tucked one hand inside John's boxers, to press against the spot just behind his balls, and wham, that was it. John came so hard it almost hurt, pouring down Rodney's throat as Rodney just swallowed and swallowed, grinning around his mouthful of shooting dick.

"So, I'm guessing this is why you think Caldwell is hot," John said, after several minutes, enough recovery time that he could speak again.

Rodney scowled then smacked John's leg. "Would you just get over it and suck me off?" he demanded. "A little quid pro quo would be nice, here."

"Yeah, yeah, all right, gimme a minute," John said, still not sure he was actually going to be able to move or anything, ever again.

Rodney skinned out of his boxers and plopped down beside John on the couch. He had an insufferable grin on his face and a hard-on that was pretty damn respectable. Not that John was a size-queen or anything.

And John realized he was going to have to pull out every trick in the book in order to drive McKay out of his mind and make sure he knew that _John_ gave the best head in Atlantis. All right, he could do that. Not that he was competitive or anything.

First, he made himself comfortable by getting out of his own boxers and t-shirt. Then he put a sofa cushion on the floor, between Rodney's legs, and settled there, on his knees. Rodney was staring at him avidly -- John knew the scout was on the field, ready to judge John's performance. Not breaking eye-contact with Rodney, John leaned forward and wrapped one hand around Rodney's dick then started in to licking like it was a blow-pop, which he'd always thought it was, sorta.

Rodney sagged lower and lower into the couch as John took him deeper and deeper, muscles in the back of his throat loosening as he remembered how to do it. Kinda like riding a bicycle. There was no need to guess at how his performance was going, because Rodney couldn't have kept his mouth shut for the world. He started with "God, you look so hot like that," and moved on to "Oh, yeah, deep, take it... oh, yeah." Then he spread his legs wider in an invitation John didn't want to turn down. "Yeah," Rodney moaned as John tucked his free hand behind Rodney's balls, "just like that. God. You have no idea how long... oh... yeah, harder, I like it harder..."

John looked up at Rodney through his eyelashes and used his secret weapon -- swallowing and humming deep in the back of his throat. He had one finger rubbing Rodney's hole and his other hand was squeezing in time to his slow but steady movements, up and down Rodney's erection. 

And Rodney was really into it, since his words came out in little gasps now: "Gah!" and "Oh!" and "Holy fuck... I'm..."

That was all the warning John had before Rodney came, with a little whine in the back of his throat that was almost cute.

John swallowed because it was the polite thing to do -- he'd never much cared for the taste of come. But when he let go of Rodney, finally, he made sure to rub his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking for all he was worth. That was good and he knew it. "Well?"

"I... uh... I..." 

"Cool. You're down to monosyllables. I think I win." John stood and restored the cushion to its rightful place. He found his boxers and got back into them and threw Rodney's at his face.

Rodney grabbed his boxers, revealing a glare beneath. "You do not."

John just smirked. "Can we get to a movie, now?"

"You are not better than I am at giving head."

"I think I just proved I am."

"It's been a while!"

"It's been longer for me, remember?"

"I hate you."

"I hate you more. Can we watch a damn movie now?"

"We'll just have to do it again, get more data. One time is not a statistical universe."

"Tomorrow. Movie tonight."

They ended up watching _Batman Begins_ again, which wasn't all that bad as John thought Christian Bale was kind of hot.

* * *

John went to bed while Rodney was still working on his laptop, typing furiously on something after watching the movie. When John woke the next morning, Rodney was on the other side of the bed again, snoring fit to bring down the house. Or the city.

The day progressed much as the day before had. John considered taking one of the dinner knives and making notches in the wall, one for each day, counting them off. Though if Rodney was willing to blow him every evening, then it might be a bit more bearable.

Lorne was on the morning duty again, tapping quietly on the door a couple of times before John actually heard him and opened it. He had not one but two six-packs of beer -- one Sam Adams and the other Coors. He also had more disks from Elizabeth, one for each of them. Feeling just slightly guilty about not working, John checked out his disks after he exercised, before he showered and ate. They both contained the kind of crap work that John absolutely hated about his job as ranking military on Atlantis and it figured. Elizabeth was really asking for it.

Rodney got up considerably later than John. He looked hung-over which was ridiculous but just _Rodney_ so John didn't ask.

It was a quiet day -- not to the extent that Rodney actually didn't talk, but in the sense that John was able to tune him out. They both (reluctantly) worked on the stuff they were supposedly getting paid to work on for the morning, then John played Syberia II for a while, trying to keep Rodney from back-seat-driving over his shoulder, with limited success.

By dinner time, John was about ready to climb the walls.

He picked a frozen dinner at random and tossed it in the heater thingy. He thought he'd asked Lorne to bring him some real food... maybe Lorne thought he was joking.

"Let's see, what's for dinner tonight," Rodney said, opening the freezer and hunting. John spared him a grunt, watching his tasteless dinner heat. "My, my, aren't we a chatty-Cathy tonight."

The heater pinged. "Shut up, McKay." He pulled it out quickly, almost burning his fingers.

"Says the man who is counting on getting a blowjob later today," Rodney replied, his voice so snide it dripped.

John rolled his eyes but didn't reply. Hell yeah, he wanted a blowjob later. If that meant not insulting Rodney, well, he could just be quiet. He could be quiet much better than McKay could, though he wasn't going to tempt fate by saying so aloud.

Though on second thought, maybe he should.

They got through dinner (John made a point to request more Tabasco sauce from the evening-duty guard; Cadman again) and the alleged dessert (at least there was enough blue Jell-O for Rodney) and slouched on the couch, each with a beer. Rodney, contentedly patting his belly, sighed. "So," he said. "Movie first or sex first?"

"Depends on the movie, I suppose," John replied. Luckily for him, Rodney wouldn't touch a Coors so he had that six-pack all to himself. "And no, I have no desire to see _Brokeback Mountain_."

Rodney scowled at him. "It's a good movie! Anyway, it doesn't matter, because I got a care package from Radek." Cadman had brought it with the evening's work -- Rodney shook the oversized envelope over the table and out spilled half a dozen DVDs, some quite obviously bootleg. "Let's see... we've got _Serenity_ , _Attack of the Clowns_ \--"

"Attack of the _what_?"

"Attack of the... oh, never mind. It was a sucky movie anyway. _Tremors_ \-- ooh, good bad movie there -- _Troy_ , _What Lies Beneath_ , _The Ring_ , _The Grudge_ , one of the _Scary Movie_ franchise--"

"I'm sensing a theme here," John said.

"Yeah, Radek likes to be scared by movies. I have no idea why, since most of the time he's terrified out of his mind at the Wraith."

"What's _Tremors_ about?"

"Uh... you have to see it to believe it. Giant worms attacking a town."

John blinked. "Okay, I'll bite. Load it up."

_Tremors_ was actually fairly decent -- more funny than scary but pretty much what John wanted, to his surprise. And the two leads were hilarious, even if one of them was Kevin Bacon. They polished off one bag of popcorn and three beers each by the time it was done. John was contemplating a fourth beer when Rodney said, "So. I believe we have a competition going on here, one that requires more data."

They stayed on the couch again, but both got completely naked which was better, because it meant John could cheat a bit and do things like play with Rodney's nipples and sneak a finger back to rub his hole. At Rodney's insistence, he went first, and John did his best to keep him on the edge for as long as possible, using every trick he'd ever had used on him.

And it was so damn hot, listening to the running commentary of Rodney Having Sex -- it was better than dialing one of those 900 sex lines. Everything John did was punctuated by little, breathy moans and gasps, raw-voiced encouragement, grunts and even whimpers. Rodney put his hand in John's hair and stroked it like he was petting a cat and wanted to get maximum pleasure in the time he had. He even encouraged John to put one spit-slick finger inside, though John was too busy to feel for Rodney's prostate. 

It didn't seem to matter, though, because Rodney began to lift his hips every time John went deep and it didn't appear to be a conscious movement. "There... yeah... oh God... I'm... Sheppard, I'm... yeah... please!" Rodney pulled his butt muscles together tightly and curled over himself as he shot into John's mouth, one little mosquito-like whine escaping. John continued to suck, though he gentled his movements and pulled his finger out. 

Finally, Rodney uncurled and sagged back to the couch. John knelt up and looked at Rodney's face and absolutely had to grin -- oh, yeah. The winnah and still champeen...

Then Rodney opened his eyes and smiled. "Not bad," he said.

Outraged, John replied, "Not bad? Oh, come _on_ , McKay..."

"Allow me to demonstrate."

So they switched positions and Rodney proceeded to blow John into the next week. Rodney kept John on the edge for what felt like _hours_ , until it was almost painful. He worked not one but two fingers inside John and had no problems finding his prostate, rubbing it and pressing on it until John was completely incoherent and harder than he'd ever been in his _life_ , and that was including the time with the two surfer girls when he was on leave in Maui.

When Rodney was done, John was limp as a washrag. "So, I guess we know who's _better_ around here," Rodney said. His voice was as insufferable as his smirk.

John tried to glare, but it was hard to do when your brains had just been shooting out your dick. 

Rodney laughed. "Do you need help getting up?"

Discovering he could, indeed, use his fingers, John flipped Rodney off.

* * *

Their fourth day in prison wasn't as bad as the third or the second, though maybe the thought that the day would end in sex helped. They played some games, watched _Troy_ and made fun of Brad Pitt's dark roots and eyeliner. Lorne smuggled them some more beer and a small box full of real food -- Twinkies, chocolate bars (hooray for Snickers!), Doritos, Oreos and popcorn. John got Rodney to try the free weights and he actually seemed to appreciate it, though John knew he probably wouldn't ever use them regularly.

But the really good part was the anticipation. 

"So, I was thinking," John said, after dinner. They were sitting on the sofa with second beers in their hands. "I can grant a certain amount of--"

Rodney didn't even let him finish. "A _certain amount_? Are you _insane_? I'm so much better than you you're not even in the same _galaxy_!"

John glared. "Says the man who's hoping to have sex tonight."

But John had forgotten how arrogant Rodney was. "There's always my right hand. Good friend, that. And I'm also better at that, too."

"Will you shut up? I was going to propose we do something a little better, but if you'd rather just masturbate--"

"Wait, wait." Rodney gave him a suspicious glance. "What do you mean, better? A sixty-nine?"

Hmmm. Actually John hadn't contemplated that. "Well, not really, I mean, the few times I've done it the other person has tended to, ah, 'bite' in awkward moments. But I'm willing, I guess."

"But that's not what you had in mind. What did you have in mind?" God, Rodney was like a dog with a bone.

"Since you seem to feel you're _better_ than anyone at anything, I'd like to try fucking. If you're willing, that is." John lifted one eyebrow and let the moment speak for itself.

Rodney still looked suspicious. "I'm more of a top than a bottom--"

"Oh, like _that's_ a big surprise," John said, rolling his eyes.

"Shut up. Actually, that's because I've never... I mean, I never had..."

"You've never bottomed?" John wasn't half so shocked as he pretended to be, but all he got was a glare. 

"No, you idiot, I've bottomed, I've just never... liked it. You know, it takes a lot of... of... trust... and stuff." Rodney was paying an inordinate amount of attention to his beer bottle label.

Huh. Rodney McKay admitting to something... uncomfortable. "Well, that's because it does," John said. "And obviously, you've never been fucked by someone who'll make sure you have one hell of a good time."

"And, let me guess, you can do that." 

"I wouldn't have proposed it if I didn't think I was... _better_ at it than anyone else," John shot back.

Rodney stared at him through narrowed eyes. "Of course, you took into account the fact that we've got no lube and no condoms here, right? Or did you ask Lorne to bring you some?"

Oh, shit. No, John hadn't thought of that. No need to tell Rodney, though. "We've got lube, that standard-issue lotion that we all use, there's some in the drawer next to the bed. And as for condoms... well..."

"You didn't think this through before you proposed it, did you?" Rodney asked, smirking.

"I was _thinking_ we could go bareback, but since you've been getting so much sex around the base, maybe that's not--"

"I'm clean!" Rodney protested. "Besides, like I told you, I don't bottom very much. And you can't get STDs from blowjobs." He looked unsure for a moment. "Can you?"

"Yes, you can, but that's beside the point. I'm clean--"

"Obviously."

"Shut up. I'm clean, and willing to take the chance that you are, too, especially since we get a stupid physical after every damn mission--"

"Carson is a vampire. I don't know why no one else sees it, why else would he need all that blood?"

"That we _could_ ," John barreled on, ignoring Rodney, "go bareback. Of course, if you don't trust me..."

"Oh, I trust you," Rodney said with a scowl. "I trust you more than you trust me, obviously."

"I... what?" 

"You've made it quite clear you still don't trust me, Colonel, in a lot of ways." Rodney was back to pouting and that wasn't exactly the way John wanted him to be.

"For crying out loud, I trust you, McKay," John said, throwing up his hands. "I trust you to complain and whine about everything. I trust you to solve the hairiest puzzles and get us out of jams when we need you to. I trust you to pull out every stop in practical jokes and cover my ass -- and yours -- when people come looking for revenge. I trust you to always forget something we're going to need, and to shoot lots and lots of trees instead of bad guys because you _still_ refuse to practice shooting. I fucking _trust_ you, okay? I just don't trust you to be left alone with an ancient weapon that could blow up you and a solar system, okay?" John focused back on Rodney, who was staring at him like he'd grown a second head. "What?"

"You trust me?" Rodney asked, blinking. 

John dropped his head in his hands. "I'm not getting any tonight, am I?"

"Actually, I think that little rant -- I believe that's the longest speech I've ever heard out of you, by the way -- just earned you some ass time." Rodney's words were ridiculous but his smile was almost shy and all John could do was shake his head.

"You're a piece of work, McKay."

"Yeah, but I've got a great ass. Come on, Colonel. We've only got three days left!"

They both stood and headed for the bedroom, John wondering when all this had left his control. _Only_ three days left? 

Rodney bounced on the bed after removing his clothes. "C'mon, c'mon, time's wasting. I've got to know if you're actually better at this than I am, though I have to say, I haven't topped much, either. But I'm a really fast learner."

John just shook his head and stripped. "Get on all fours, grab one of the pillows and push it under you. We'll do this the right way." It was obvious that Rodney was nervous, and it made John feel oddly protective. Well, he'd planned on making sure Rodney knew exactly who was 'better' at topping, so he'd _better_ get busy at it.

Rodney got comfortable and John got the hand lotion that he knew was non-toxic and good as lube after hearing a conversation in the infirmary which he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to have heard. But it wasn't his fault he was in the infirmary so much, so he had just filed the tidbit away. He poured a nice big dollop on his hand and coated his fingers thickly before climbing on the bed behind Rodney. "You ready?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah, get on with it," Rodney replied snippily. 

But he was tense, John could feel it in every muscle of his body. "Relax, Rodney. I promise it won't hurt."

"That's what you said the last time, when we had to do that dance on M4Y-359 and Teyla said-- oh."

They were both clean, having taken showers before they ate dinner, so John leaned forward and licked experimentally over Rodney's hole. "Oh?"

"Wh-- what was...?"

"Told you it wouldn't hurt." He hadn't ever rimmed anyone, but it wasn't bad and seeing Rodney jump was worth it. He licked a bit more, concentrating on the wrinkled skin, skimming lightly, teasingly.

"Oh. Oh! That's... Oh, that's..."

"Good?" John was grinning, he couldn't help it. But he was eager to get to the main event. Making sure his fingers were almost dripping with lotion, he pushed one of them gently inside Rodney, twisting carefully. "Okay?"

"Oh, yeah, that's fine, I mean, I've gone this far with myself and with... with... Oh."

Rodney was still pretty tight, though he was loosening as John pushed in and out, turning his finger. "I'm going to go with two now, tell me if it hurts."

"Oh, I will, I can guarantee that, but it feels good so far, and what you did with -- was that your tongue? Were you rimming me? I've never been... oh."

Two fingers were a little tight so John concentrated on just spreading the lube around, not doing anything more than that, not going deeper than the first knuckle. Rodney was panting and shaking slightly, and John couldn't tell if it was from nerves or arousal. The usual rambling commentary was reduced to one syllable and seemed to be made up primarily of the words 'oh' and 'wow' and 'good' and 'God' and 'yes' and 'more.' 

He was loosening up, and John pulled his fingers out to add more lotion. "Wait, what are..."

"Just more lube, buddy, don't worry, we're not stopping yet." John put two fingers back inside Rodney and went a little deeper, turned a little more, making sure Rodney was loose and slick.

"I... I... I didn't think you... oh. God yes. More, you've gotta do more, it feels..."

"Not yet, Rodney. Hang on. I'm going to be very careful here, make sure you're not hurt."

"I understand that, I... I... I do... but... but..."

John added more lube and carefully started on a third finger. That was tighter and he heard Rodney take a deep breath. "That's good, keep breathing, am I hurting you?"

"No, no not at all, it's just... it's just..."

"It's tight. But it's getting looser. C'mon, Rodney, deep breath. You're going to love this."

"Yes, well, I... I... certainly ex... expect that... you did say better..."

John grinned. Wiping the remainder of the lube on his left hand on Rodney's back, he reached under and felt for Rodney's erection. He wasn't at full mast, not yet, but he was getting there. John pulled on it a few times, encouraging it, and Rodney gasped.

"Yeah, that's it." John pulled out and added just a bit more lube before pushing three fingers back in. It was definitely looser. "You're almost ready."

"God... God... It's... Yeah. I... I... do it... now..."

Not needing any more encouragement, John gently pulled his fingers out and quickly slicked himself up. He knelt up and carefully began pressing his dick inside Rodney. "That's it," he encouraged. It was tight and so damn hot he felt like coming instantly. "Here I come, nice and slow."

It was a long, slow glide in, Rodney gasping all the way and trying to push back. John kept one hand on Rodney's hip, making sure he couldn't push backwards or forwards, controlling the entire thing. When it got a bit harder to push, John pulled out, pulled back almost all the way out then pushed in again, going deeper each time. He'd never done this bareback and the difference in sensation was incredible, an order of magnitude better than anything he'd ever done with anyone, male or female.

Rodney was babbling, words just tumbling out of his mouth and John would have bet that he didn't know half of them were getting out. Most of them were variations on "So fucking good!" and John just smiled and concentrated on not coming yet.

Once he was in all the way, balls deep, he stopped, waiting until Rodney was okay with it. He reached around again, checking on Rodney's cock and it was nice and hard, leaking like a sieve, almost as hot as his channel was. "You... ready...?" John said, struggling to get the words out. He wanted nothing more than to just start fucking Rodney, hard and fast.

"Yes, yes, yes! Damn you, move... you... you... move, please, you..."

"I'll take that as a yes," John groaned, pulling back. He pushed back in strongly, closing his eyes at the pleasure of it but trying hard to listen for any discomfort. Rodney gasped and bucked, pushing back, so John took that as an all systems go! and did it again, a little harder. Soon he was riding hard, shoving himself in and back and listening to Rodney melt down underneath him, feeling Rodney jack himself hard, in time with John's thrusts. With a hoarse shout, Rodney came all over himself and clenched John hard.

That was all it took to tip John over the edge and he came too, gasping and curling up over Rodney's bent back, his hips stuttering, trying to thrust and not able to continue the movement in the face of climax. He was barely able to keep from falling on Rodney, but managed to tip himself to the side, flattening out on the mattress next to Rodney, glad the bed was so huge. Rodney looked like he was still riding the tide of coming, his whole body jerking. John had been there, where an orgasm was like an entire-body experience, wiping you almost completely out; he smiled and waited for Rodney to come back from bliss-ville.

It took a gratifyingly large amount of time for Rodney to recover. When he did, yanking the soaked pillow out from under him and thumping to the mattress next to John, his expression was one of shocked and dazed pleasure. "Okay," he gasped. "You're better."

"Told you."

"But only until I get better. And to do that, I'll have to practice."

"Yeah, yeah," John said, stretching his whole body out and crossing his arms under his head. He always felt better after sex. "Tomorrow."

"Okay. That sounds good. I couldn't get it up with a crane after that, anyway." 

John laughed and Rodney gave him a look that might have intended on being sour but failed at it, utterly, mostly due to the grin which kept getting in the way.

"Tomorrow. We can try a different position, even, or a lot of them. You could..." Rodney stopped talking and turned his head to look at John, his eyes narrowing as his gaze raked over John's body. "You could ride me. I could just lay back and you could climb on top and... and..."

John's dick gave a valiant twitch, shocking him. "Uh..."

Rodney's eyes grew big again. "Maybe I should go into the other room."

"Maybe I should get dressed," John said, hurriedly. There was just no way in _hell_ he could get it back up and if his libido thought he could... "I'm getting a beer."

"Open one for me too!" Rodney called out before fleeing into the bathroom.

* * *

It had been an extremely busy week for Elizabeth, made busier by John and Rodney being in their 'time-out' space. Stephen had finally calmed down and even saw the humor in the situation, especially once he started getting discreetly propositioned by several of the female marines and scientists. Radek hadn't pulled out the remainder of his hair over having to manage the science staff, but he was more than ready for Rodney to come back. 

The good part about it was there had been no practical jokes of any kind for an entire week. The betting pool was apparently a good outlet, and Elizabeth had even put a half-pound box of Godiva chocolate on them lasting the entire week without bloodshed. She'd gotten it back with interest.

She knew John and Rodney were out and waiting for her in her office as she hurried into the transporter to take her to the control room -- nothing had gone right that day and she was ready for a break. They were, indeed, standing together in her office, looking suitably contrite.

"Well, gentlemen, I see you survived unscathed. The good news is there have been no pranks this week and Atlantis is still standing, as you can see."

"Yeah, well, we're..." John started, rubbing his neck.

"Ready to go back to work," Rodney said, pursing his lips and shooting John a little glance that Elizabeth couldn't decipher. 

"Well then. Go to it. Dismissed." She smiled at them and they returned the smile, still shooting each other little looks. Elizabeth wondered if Kate had indeed been right and they had actually _acted_ on their alleged attraction... well, she'd find out soon enough. And it really wasn't any of her business who was fucking whom in Atlantis, she had enough to do without being a _yenta_.

* * *

John and Rodney moved quickly across the bridge, heading for the transporter. "So, what did you fill her seat cushion with?" John asked, softly.

"Red Jell-O," Rodney replied, smirking.

John nodded appreciatively. "Good one. You think that'll be enough?"

"To get another week's vacation? I--"

There was a shriek behind them, loud enough to shatter glass. Everyone in the control room sat up and Marines came up the stairs at a run.

"I'm thinking yes," John said.

"I've got a whole box of condoms and a huge tube of Wet," Rodney added.

"Planning ahead. You're pretty good at that."

"Better than anyone," Rodney replied, grinning.

 

end


End file.
